


Sunlight

by joufancyhuh



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Black Emporium 2020, F/F, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26159947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Storvacker nuzzles the space below Svarah’s jawline as she gives a rare smile, fingers combing through the fur at his neck. She should be called Sun-Smile, Cadash thinks, a little dazed, a loopy sort of grin forming on her face as she witnesses their reunion. Never had she imagined wanting to switch places with a bear so badly as she does watching them.
Relationships: Female Cadash/Svarah Sun-Hair
Comments: 16
Kudos: 9
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wintertree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintertree/gifts).



One

Svarah speaks in hushed tones as she sits on a log around the campfire, skin awash in the low light of its embers. She burns, her eyes the coal that drags Cadash into her words, like reconnecting with the Stone that her people call home. Rough, calloused, stubby fingers brush through the soft fur of Svarah’s hood to pull it away, to pull herself closer -- always the hood, always the Thane’s fluttered breaths like a soft kiss against her lips -- Cadash awakens. 

The anchor crackles with dreams and longings as she closes her fist, raises both of them to shield her eyes -- trying to forget or attempting to return, she’s never sure. Dwarves don’t dream, this is all new to her. The woman made more of Stone that Cadash herself is supposed to be, that is also new to her. 

Bull’s on watch tonight, and when she drags herself out of her bedroll to wander and avoid sleep, he tips her a wink, those Ben-Hassarath eyes glinting with forbidden knowledge, as if he knows what’s had her restless since Stone-Bear Hold. 

  
  


Two

Storvacker nuzzles the space below Svarah’s jawline as she gives a rare smile, fingers combing through the fur at his neck.  _ She should be called Sun-Smile _ , Cadash thinks, a little dazed, a loopy sort of grin forming on her face as she witnesses their reunion. Never had she imagined wanting to switch places with a bear so badly as she does watching them. 

“I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough,” Svarah says, the sun fading in all but her eyes. “He is … Important is not a strong enough word for what he is to our people.” 

And Cadash thinks of her own people, of the Stone lost to her -- her grandmother who shuns the dwarven ways and says it is better to forget than remember the pain of its loss; her mother who digs to find her connection back into their world with dirt-crusted fingers out in her gardens, uncles who sneak into the Deep Roads where their blood sings strongest, face death rather than lose their home … and herself, who only knows the ghosts of her ancestors like wringing water from a rock, picking apart stories like shreds of meat off the barest of bones. Her gaze travels up the walls of the cave, to the rock ceiling overhead, and she nearly shudders to imagine such an enclosure. 

Svarah notices, her eyes alight with curiosity. What stories do Avvar know of the dwarves? Does she know what an outlier Cadash is, even in her bloodline? 

“I would like to learn about him, if that’s okay?” Cadash rocks back and forth on her heels, hands clasped behind her back. Svarah holds such a profound, deep belonging to the Avvar that Cadash envies -- not to mention it’s an excuse to linger close, a cat stretched out in Svarah’s sunbeam. The Thane brings something out of her that she can’t fully explain, doesn’t want to in case those that named her Inquisitor chase after it like a pack of ravenous wolves -- to describe it is to destroy it, and Cadash would rather hold onto it altogether. 

“Of course,” Svarah responds, letting go of Storvacker to sit upright on her throne. She waves a hand toward a nearby seatt, and both Cadash and the bear whumph down at the same time, gazing up and toward the light.

  
  


Three

The world swells with the rich scent of cedar as it burns. Droplets of sweat bead across the bridge of Svarah’s nose and run along her biceps like rivers cutting new paths, and in the firelight she glistens like the very sun itself. Bare feet stomp the ground in rhythm with the skald’s playing and Krem, who is doing his best to help, his apparent weakness for cute musicians once again at play.

Cadash moves as solid as the Stone which birthed her ancestors, her only thread to the ground, one she eagerly wishes to cut. The ale which makes her tongue thick helps little, only increasing the sheer force poured into her otherwise jerky movements. She stumbles, a little each time, too busy gazing at the vibrancy of Svarah’s shine.

“Ah, Korth,” Svarah mumbles under her breath as she comes to rest on a nearby log, hand absentmindedly rubbing the scar tissue across her bald scalp. Her chest heaves, shirt damp and clinging to her and blast it all, Cadash really is full on staring now, isn’t she? But Svarah smiles and pats the empty space beside her, and Cadash takes a moment to look around and make sure that gesture isn’t intended for anyone else. 

Which only makes Svarah tip her head back and laugh, mouth open and full-bodied and oh no, Cadash really has it bad for her. Her own smile blooms much more shyly, like gentle petals unfolding in the passage of time, as her head swims with visions from her dreams, of closing all distance between them until she is secure in Svarah’s arms, the Thane a tree whose branches wrap her tight in their grasp. 

“I enjoy your dancing,” Svarah says and Cadash opens her mouth to admonish her of such a tease, but only sincerity curves the edges of the Thane’s smile. She holds up a hand, a welcome, and Cadash anchors herself to it, their palms sticky and damp and adhesive, but when she takes a seat by her side, neither let go. “You dance with such passion.”

Heat kindles in her cheeks, and she turns her head to stare at the toes of her leather boots, scuffed from where the ground failed in making her fall -- the Stone in revolt, not wanting to keep her but not quite willing to let her go. “I … like yours, too.” A vast understatement, possibly a scene to repeat in her dreams for months to come. 

“Perhaps once I have caught my breath, we could share a dance together.” 

Cadash clicks her heels together in excitement. “I’d like that. Very much.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing this and the challenge it presented and I really like the Cadash. This is the first dwarf I've written and really considered, which lead to some fun headcanons.
> 
> I appreciate any comments <3


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